


fierce like fire (sweet like fruit)

by WaveGoodbye



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Introspection, Possession, maybe a happy ending too because I'm too soft for these women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaveGoodbye/pseuds/WaveGoodbye
Summary: For a moment, Waverly stares back. A moment of silent pleading to any higher power, anyone who was listening, that everything has changed since the last update. But when Nicole’s eyes fail to soften in recognition and love, Waverly knows that not to be true.Nicole looks at her so deeply that Waverly thinks she’s seeing inside, and maybe she is. Maybe this new Nicole, the cold, dangerous one could do that. Nicole’s eyes tighten ever so slightly, as if in realisation. Waverly wonders if she’s seen the darkness that resides there, the one she tries inexplicably hard to keep buried, even from herself.





	fierce like fire (sweet like fruit)

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely don't know where this came from. All I know is I was in the middle of writing playful, silly Wayhaught in a new little something I'm working on when this began a relentless gnawing until I wrote it down. 
> 
> I will admit, seeing a darker version of Nicole for just a little while in S3 would be... a personal dream. Not for too long, mind you. I love my soft angels. 
> 
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Waverly wonders if she looks different.

 

That’s what happens, right? When something happens. When a person goes to bed one night and the same person does not return there the following day. 

 

She’s heard that’s what happens. 

 

She’s heard it from friends and family and her favourite books, TV, the internet. You name it, she’s heard it. 

 

Waverly remembers Wynonna holding her face at some young, unidentifiable age when a pet of hers had passed and her little heart shattered, heads pressed together as she said, “I can see you Waves, you’re still here. Still the same ol’ you. You’ll be okay.”

 

Wynonna had been right, Waverly returned to normal after only a few days after having started each day with a quick glance in a mirror and built herself up with “You’re still here, still the same, you’re okay” approach to healing her heart. 

 

Waverly looked in the mirror and told herself the same thing the day after her sister and father were taken from her as a kid. She did the same when Wynonna went away and when she left again, that time willingly breaking Waverly’s heart. She looked in the mirror the same night she had finally given in and allowed Champ to take her to bed, the first night she saw him kissing a cheerleader who was most definitely not her. 

 

She looked in the mirror the day after Curtis died, and when Shorty passed. 

 

In that terrible time between Wynonna and Nicole being taken by the Jack of Knives and she didn't know if she would ever see them again, Waverly had caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window.

 

Waverly stood in front of a mirror when Willa died, again, when Mictian finally released her, when she made a terrible, terrible mistake and kissed Rosita and Tucker had been intent on keeping her for himself. Waverly looked in the mirror at the hospital when Nicole lay there coming closer and closer to death because of her, because it was going to be Nicole or Waverly who would end up hurt and no matter what, Nicole would always put herself forward for that.

 

Even when Waverly had to break Wynonna’s heart, along with her own, and send Alice away, Waverly had taken a long look in the mirror following a shower.

 

And she hated it. 

 

She still hates it. 

 

Everything looks exactly the same.

 

Frustratedly, after her whole world is different, the reflection staring back at her is the one she has always seen. The only thing it’s ever done is age. It’s never changed. It’s never actually reflected the missing pieces she’s felt crack away piece by piece her entire life. 

 

It’s never been dull when all she’s felt is darkness. It’s never been broken when all she’s felt is shattered. 

 

It is something that has brought her such frustration over the years. 

 

Something happened, something I’ll never forget, not ever, why do I look the same when I’m never going to be? 

 

Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls were running a mission on the revenant of the week, a scumbag con-artist who now made a living by similar standards, only had now worked his way up to threatening victims’ loved ones, killing them when they thought he was bluffing. 

 

Nicole only went as backup, insisting when she knew it involved an innocent family. Waverly loves her so much for that. 

 

Things happened when Willa broke the seal of the ghost river triangle. Things got in. Things that had no place in Purgatory. 

 

As if those creatures had manners, they stayed away most of the time like they knew the heir had her hands full with revenants and Bulshar and didn't want to be an inconvenience. Sometimes, however, they couldn’t resist a game of peekaboo. 

 

The gang figured out how it happened weeks later. 

 

Nicole was different after that call.

 

Not always, but enough for Waverly to know something was wrong. Enough to draw on her own experience with Mictian to come to a brutal, devastating truth. 

 

The undead may have been smart on occasion but holy they were not. Possession was the fastest ticket into town and killed two birds with one stone. Lowly revenants were reminded of the pecking order right as they thought they were at the finishing line, and the heir would get the message loud and clear: we’re here.

 

Wynonna says it must have happened when they’d rescued the revenants’ victims and the wife clung to Nicole, thanking her with so much sincere gratitude that nobody had batted an eyelid at it. The woman had pressed a gentle hand at Nicole’s cheek and smiled at her, holding her gaze like she was looking for something. 

 

Something got inside Nicole’s head and changed her. 

 

Waverly looks in the mirror at herself after each day she’s reminded that Nicole, her Nicole, is so far from her that she doesn’t know how to even begin finding her, and it’s with gut-wrenching fury that everything is as it’s always been. 

 

Wynonna is still right, she’s still there, still looks the same. 

 

But it is deep, deep down that Waverly has always changed. It’s deep, deep down in her soul; the love she has for Nicole. It’s so much of a part of her that she wonders why it isn’t visible to the naked eye. 

 

The night Waverly finally agreed to listen to a plan involving the capture of her girlfriend she was reminded of that visceral blow that came with her last betrayal, when she had betrayed Wynonna for Nicole’s life. Even betraying Nicole for, well, Nicole, it wasn’t easier. It was worse. The first night they left her shackled up and alone in Shorty’s basement Waverly had cried herself asleep on Wynonna’s shoulder after a hundred questions of fear and self-doubt.

 

Nicole cried for Waverly, told her she was sorry and whatever she did, she would fix it if only Waverly would unbind her and talk. 

 

It’s why it’s taken Waverly a whole week to work up the courage to go back. She knows Nicole has pulled the same tricks, more or less, to gain freedom since. Doc is still sprouting a mighty fat lip from the last time he got too close and told Nicole no. 

 

Waverly knows Wynonna would kill her if she knew she was there. She’d know it even if Wynonna hadn’t been telling her over and over again during the past week. She’d know it if Wynonna said nothing at all. Waverly would do the same for her. Always.

 

It’s warm when she opens the door. 

 

Waverly doesn’t know why she’s shocked by that, as if she thought they’d keep Nicole at a chilling temperature like some kind of… 

 

It’s quiet. It’s so quiet that she wonders if maybe Nicole has escaped between the last time she’d been checked on -a few hours ago- and now. She hasn’t, though. Several more steps down and Waverly spots her on the cot, shackles around her wrists and ankles in a way that makes Waverly feel like one has been fastened around her own throat.

 

Nicole looks the way she always does when she’s sleeping, soft and unguarded like she hasn’t a care in the world, and it’s everything Waverly can do not to rush to her, to undo those ridiculous restraints and cling to her and say ridiculous things like they’d matter, things like I love you and I’m sorry and please come back to me. 

 

Waverly doesn’t say those things yet. She knows better. 

 

Nicole’s eyes open like she’s heard her, anyway. They look right at her.

 

For a moment, Waverly stares back. A moment of silent pleading to any higher power, anyone who was listening, that everything has changed since the last update. But when Nicole’s eyes fail to soften in recognition and love, Waverly knows that not to be true. 

 

Nicole looks at her so deeply that Waverly thinks she’s seeing inside, and maybe she is. Maybe this new Nicole, the cold, dangerous one could do that. Nicole’s eyes tighten ever so slightly, as if in realisation. Waverly wonders if she’s seen the darkness that resides there, the one she tries inexplicably hard to keep buried, even from herself.

 

“Can’t sleep, baby?”

 

Waverly looks away. She knows nothing has changed. No one was any further in figuring out who had possessed Nicole and why. Waverly didn’t really care why anymore, she just wanted to know how to find them and make them pay, make them bring Nicole back. Her Nicole. 

 

“I never thought I’d say something looks bad on you, but Waves… that guilt,” Nicole smiles. “Not your best look. Not by far.”

 

“This really isn’t yours either.”

 

“What are we like.”

 

Waverly stands a good distance away, hands twisted together. “What does it feel like?” She feels like it’s a valid question. She wants to know if it feels like Mictian, or if it’s something else entirely. If it's like Mictian then maybe she can help, maybe she can reach her.

 

Nicole looks pleased but wary at the curiosity. “You care?”

 

“Of course I care.”

 

Nicole smiles but it isn’t the one Waverly loves, it’s the one that twists her insides. 

 

“C’mere, let me show you how I feel.”

 

“Cut your shit,” Waverly snaps. “Who are you?”

 

Nicole likes it, her eyes light up. She swallows, tongue running out over her bottom lip. “The thing is… I don’t know if I’m convinced you really want to know. Like, do you _really_ care, or are you using me for a bedtime story?”

 

“Tell me, now.”

 

“Uh, _please_.” 

 

Waverly feels empty inside the longer she speaks to Nicole, or whoever has wormed their way inside of her. She presses her teeth together.

 

“Beg, baby, or you don’t get anything.” Nicole looks at her from under her lashes, a self-assured smirk pulling at her mouth. “You should know that by now.”

 

Waverly does know that. Nicole's said those exact words to her before and she remembers the underlying sensation in each and every one of those circumstances; the sense of absolute security. Nicole would give her anything, always, but sometimes it was delicious to make Waverly plead for it.

 

This Nicole gets off on it in a different way altogether. 

 

“Please,” Waverly caves, because she's never known how to deny Nicole anything.

 

She isn't sure whether it's out of pity that an answer is forthcoming or if it's another ploy to hurt her but Waverly will take it. Part of her doesn't care what comes out of Nicole's mouth, as long as something does. As long as she can hear her voice. It feels like it's been much longer than a week since she's heard it. It's been physically painful. She’s been lonely.

 

The thing that isn't Nicole sits up, finally, leaning against a wooden post with one foot against the cot to prop a leg up. “I don't know, babe. It's hard to say.”

 

“You're playing with me,” Waverly says. “Her. Stop it.”

 

“Oh, I'd love to play with you,” Nicole says, pretenses gone. “The things I've heard…” 

 

“Why don't you, then? Swap. I’m right here.”

 

“You know, I've been around a long time and one thing I will never understand is mankind’s penchant for frivolous dating. Hopping from person to person. I prefer to savour our time together so that I don't know where I end and they begin. They get so confused. You'd know that, wouldn't you?”

 

Waverly did indeed know all about that. She knew she had days or nights even now where she would swear to be able to feel Mictian swimming just under the surface and was petrified of going back under. 

 

But she would. For Nicole, she would. 

 

“Mictian was strong, wasn't he? Made you do things you had no control over, made you watch as you hurt the people you love. You have any idea how many lives he took?”

 

“He didn't take mine,” Waverly says, her chin lifting. “He had _weeks_ to do it, and he couldn’t.” She leans against a work bench and digs the heels of her palms against the edge, fingers fanning out. 

 

“But he hurt you. He hurt you in ways you'll never heal from. I can see them now, baby. I can see them all.” 

 

“Maybe,” she concedes. “But I doubt it. I'm still here, I'm still me.”

 

Nicole laughs openly, a short but delighted chuckle. Waverly feels it like a knife.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Why don't you find out?”

 

It's tempting, very much so by the predatory glint to Nicole's eyes. In the end, the cons outweigh the pros. Nicole stretches back out, getting comfortable. “I like this seat. You know, Miss Haught is quite the surprise. I had no idea she was such a firecracker. The way she's clawing at me right now? She's been screaming ever since you came down here, Waverly. Should I let her out to play? Just for a second? She’s been trying so hard to reach you.”

 

Waverly is close to the edge now, too close not to do something thoughtless and she inhales sharply, hating herself for it, hating herself for the way she doesn't know how not to bare her soul for all to see when Nicole is trapped in the dark the same way she was all those months ago. 

 

All of the hurt blooms up in a great swell inside of her chest and pools into her eyes in the loudest plea they've ever had to scream.

 

She knows the thing that isn’t Nicole is expecting the water works and revels in the pain it can feel emanating off of her.    
  
Waverly expects that.    
  
She knows that because Mictian loved toying with her like that too; any time Nicole or Wynonna would cast her a lingering concerned look when she was trapped, clawing to break the surface, Mictian would drink in their concern like nectar, for he knew with exact clarity the way it tore Waverly apart.    
  
In one way or another, Waverly was alone with Mictian for over seven weeks.    
  
The tricks… the mind games… the deceit. Waverly knew it all.    
  
She admitted it to Nicole late one night in the safety net of moonlight. Mictian had gone, yes, but parts of him would be a constant effort to forget and unlearn. So much so that sometimes Waverly wondered if it even was Mictian. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was her.    
  
The one thing she knows Nicole isn’t expecting is a move.  

 

Since the last time Nicole lashed out at Doc and left him with a spectacularly split lip, he and Dolls had shortened her restraints.    
  
Waverly was moving before she could think twice about it, before her intent was shown in her expression somehow in the way that only Nicole would ever be able to read. Waverly was on top of Nicole in seconds, knees either side of her legs, and Nicole reacted instantly, folding at her waist to shove Waverly off and away.    
  
Except Waverly was prepared for that. 

  
She was prepared for the way Nicole’s forehead smoothed out and the fire she spread with her eyes, the buck of her legs meant to dislodge.    
  
Waverly sat back on Nicole’s feet and pushed her knees as tight as they would go to stop some of the thrashing. It was like muscle memory, the way Waverly knew Nicole would go for her. Shorter restraints did not mean exceptionally short restraints, this Waverly knew from the moment she saw them fastened around her love’s skin.    
  
Waverly’s hands found Nicole’s wrists first and pushed up on her knees smoothly, grunting with effort to push Nicole flat on her back and keep her there. It took several efforts and she knew she would be bruised the next morning.   
  
Nicole laughs; a sickly sound. Waverly knows it's because the demon was surprised.     
  
Nicole’s laughter dies down to a smile with Waverly looking down at her. It doesn't take long to turn sinister. “I’m going to kill her from the inside out, Waverly, and you’re going to watch.”   
  
Waverly was prepared to hear that, too.    
  
As prepared as one could ever be, she supposes. Stretched out and pressed up tightly to Nicole’s body, something inside of Waverly snaps and she leans down to kiss Nicole with a hard press of her mouth. She kisses Nicole, her love who would feel it and cling to it and draw strength from the way she had clung to Nicole’s for all those weeks with Mictian.

 

Waverly kisses Nicole because she feels her absence —the real Nicole’s— physically as much as emotionally and it’s worse than anything she’s ever been forced to endure. She needs to feel her and she thinks, perhaps naively, that maybe if her Nicole feels her again in the way that nobody else does, or ever will, that she will be able to hold on just a little longer.   
  
Waverly needs Nicole to know that it’s okay, that the darkness is strong but it’s not stronger. She would know. Waverly needs Nicole to know that she’s there, that she understands, and to rest sometimes when the time is right, for fighting so hard inside is like struggling in quicksand.   
  
Waverly kisses Nicole because she loves her, no matter what. God, does she.   
  
Upon pulling apart, for a second Waverly thinks she sees her Nicole when her eyes open but it’s an evil trick of the mind because Waverly doesn’t dare to blink for even a moment and already her Nicole is gone like she was never there to begin with, a cold void so far from the warm gaze associated with her.   
  
Nicole was everything Waverly breathed in when she needed to still, when she needed everything else to quiet. She was Waverly's deepest breath and Waverly wanted to inhale until her lungs were full and her head and heart were content once more, only this time she thought she might choke.   
  
And still, Waverly won’t look away.    
  
“I love you,” she says.    
  
A low, dangerous growl begins in the back of Nicole’s throat and it’s all the warning Waverly has before she’s sailing back through the air and crashes against the wall, falling to the floor in a crumble.    
  
She remembers the next part as if time was suspended, as if it all happened too fast that if she didn’t slow it down then it would slip from her mind forever. 

The restraints at Nicole’s wrists snap like daisy chains and she struggles violently against the ones at her feet, a scream burning through her throat as she thrashes and yanks at the shackles until she is free.    
  
Waverly remembers the way Nicole’s body trembled as it stalked over to her, suddenly alight with fury, and the way Wynonna appeared from seemingly nowhere right on time, like somehow Wynonna knew she would disobey an order to stay away. She remembers the way Nicole was dragged away from her and violently forced down onto her front, restrained once more with Peacemaker aglow and burning as it was shoved into Nicole’s back as a reminder of who was in charge.    
  
She remembers the days after that in bits and pieces.   
  
Waverly knows it’s Jeremy, ultimately, who manages to save the day.    
  
She doesn’t know how he managed to track down the demon to its dank hole in the ground befitting for such a godless creature and its version of men who served as guards, and direct Wynonna and hers towards a messy, deserved victory they all felt down to their bones.    
  
What Waverly does remember is the way Nicole opened her eyes, wild and terrified until they came to rest on hers.    
  
Waverly remembers the crippling, raw way in which Nicole cried.    
  
She remembers the way Nicole clung to her like she was afraid to let go. Waverly will always understand and relate to that. She knows she did the same with Wynonna, and then Nicole once they were in the privacy and safety of her bedroom after Mictian.    
  
It’s hard, after.    
  
Waverly remains at Nicole’s side throughout, devoted and patient even through the worst days.    
  
It takes a while for Nicole to come back, to really come back. Like Waverly, she comes back in pieces. A smile here and there, a dry remark, a gentle touch to the small of Waverly’s back as they cross a street, a soft kiss upon her mouth.    
  
Eventually, her Nicole takes her to bed and it’s everything. It’s deep kisses and hard, slow rolls of hips, damp skin that’s even hotter to the touch. It’s desperate, loud groans and mantras of ‘I love you. God, I love you’ and ‘can I have you, baby? Can I touch you?’ and Waverly swears she’ll never be more connected to another human being as long as she lives. Part of her will be with Nicole, always.

  
  
She thinks she looks different these days.    
  
Waverly thinks the changes have been there for a long time and it’s just taken her this long to see it. She thinks it’s less of the way her face looks and more of the way her spine and shoulders sit straight and strong; not without fear but courageous and sure enough after everything she’s been through to say yeah, I’m still here, what else you got?   
  
Wynonna is more than a curse, more than her reputation by galaxies and beyond, more than each and every one of her mistakes; intentional or not. If Wynonna can be more than the darkness that’s chased after her for her whole life, then so can Waverly.    
  
If Nicole can be more than her darkness, so can she.    
  


These days Waverly thinks she can be both.


End file.
